Letters From No One
by HeartofMine
Summary: It was over. Everything had ended. The war, the terror. Her life...'Ginny Weasley seemingly lost everything important to her. Read as the mystery of Harry Potter's disappearance unfolds...
1. Impossible

**Chapter One:**

**Impossible**

It was over. Everything had ended. The war, the terror. Her life. Not in a literal sense, of course, but it might as well have been. People she'd loved had been ripped from her, with alarming celerity, she might add, one going right after the other. It started with her older brother, Charlie Weasley. Throughout the war, Voldemort had been trying to rack up as many weapons as he possibly could, and figured dragons, being big, fire-breathing beasts, could drive fear into the hearts of wizards and muggles alike. Charlie didn't like that idea. Not one bit. He knew how dangerous it could get if the dragons were roaming around without the proper supervision, so he pinned the dragons in stronger cages and gave them extra security (his strongest, most fearless men) that he thought was impenetrable.

Only it wasn't.

Charlie had gone to check on his dragons one night, to see how they were faring, and when he got there he noticed that things were a little too quiet. He couldn't hear the roars and steaming snorts of the dragons, and he couldn't hear the small talk being exchanged by his men. So, naturally, he went to investigate, and when he entered the clearing in the woods where they were kept, he noticed two things: the reason he hadn't heard the roaring and snorting of the dragons was because there _were_ no dragons. All of the cages were completely empty. Also, he noticed bodies littering the ground, the bodies of his men, and some of his closest friends. Not all of his men were dead though, or how would people know exactly how Charlie had died? No, one of his men had escaped Voldemorts killing rampage and watched, trembling, from behind a tree as Charlie Weasley surveyed the scene with many emotions flickering through his eyes, and across the sharp, jagged features of his face: anger, loneliness, sadness. Charlie sank to his knees in the soft, damp soil beneath him and fisted his hands in his hair, letting out a strangled cry. By doing this, he'd made himself vulnerable, which was a good enough signal for Voldemort to appear before him. Charlie looked up at the Dark Lord as he approached him ever so slowly, his cheeks stained with brazen tears, and he looked Voldemort square in the eye. If he was afraid, he hid it well.

"I've won, my boy. I've won," spoke Voldemort in the softest, yet raspiest voice.

"Have you?" Charlie countered in a calm tone.

"Yes, I have."

"No," stated Charlie, the sound of defiance in his voice, "I don't believe you have." Voldemorts eyes narrowed to almost nothing. Charlie glared back, unflinching, and continued. "Harry Potter is still very much alive and as long as he remains that way, you haven't won a damned thing. You think that because Harry is merely a boy compared to you, that he is nothing, that his life and existence has no meaning, and that he, an incompetent child, could not possibly stop you, the all-powerful Dark Lord. Answer this for me, then, will you?" Charlie's voice dropped to a whisper. "Why are you trying so hard to kill him?" Voldemort's lips, nothing more than lines that appeared to be carved into his face, tightened. Charlie could see the anger flashing in his eyes like lightening bolts and he didn't have much time to ponder over the great risk he had just taken in speaking those words, for Voldemort raised his wand and cried, "Avada Kedavra!" Charlie didn't stand a chance, and the curse was hurtled at him full force, slamming straight into his chest. The light immediately left his eyes and he fell face-first into the soil, the story of his life ending almost as quickly as it began. Voldemort didn't bother giving the place a final glance before he Disapparated into thin air, leaving Charlie, among others, dead, and a single man cowering behind a tree.

The man, Ginny Weasley soon learned, was a friend of Charlie's named Daegus Strange. The Aurors, upon finding Charlie and the other men, found Daegus in a stupor and took him in for interrogation. He recapitulated everything he had seen and heard, and swore to testify if it ever came down to that. They released him hours later, thanking him for the information, and Daegus found his way to the Burrow to pay his respects to the family.

Ginny watched him as he stood alone in the corner of the room at Charlie's layout, his face hollow and void of any emotion. She felt sorry for the bloke; he'd had to witness what happened to her poor brother. Earlier, when she'd tried to console him, her brothers, Fred and George, interrupted her and asked him why he hadn't even tried to save Charlie. Daegus's face paled, and Ginny pushed the two away, glaring at them.

Even after she'd walked away from Daegus, she still kept a watchful eye on him to make sure that her brothers didn't dump their rude questions and accusations all over him.

Ginny glanced around the room full of people, wondering why some of them were even there; none of the deceased here tonight probably knew them. She shook her head and averted her gaze to the three caskets lined up at the very front of the room. She made her way towards them, grabbing a handful of tissues as she went.

She stopped in front of Charlie's casket first, which was closed. All of the caskets were closed out of respect of the deceased. They hadn't died of natural cause, and it was appropriate to keep the lids down. Ginny took a flower from the arrangement next to Charlie's coffin and set it atop the lid. She sniffed and gave the engraved gold plaque with his name on it a light kiss before moving on to the next casket which held her fathers, Arthur Weasley's, remains. He also had a golden plaque with his name engraved on it, and as she read it her eyes brimmed with tears. She'd lost her father, someone she had always looked up to and someone she had always respected greatly. He'd died defending the doors of the Department of Mysteries, his pride in his job getting the best of him. Though he did not work for the Department of Mysteries, there was no one else to defend it from the Death Eaters, who were certain that the prophecy was not lost. She dabbed the tissue under her eyes and kissed her fathers plaque as well before stepping in front of the third and final casket.

Ginny could only stand there, staring at yet another name engraved on a golden plaque. It was still so hard to believe, and so unreal that part of her mind chose not to believe that he was truly dead.

He couldn't be. Not after everything else he'd been through.

Ginny ran her fingers across the engraved letters that spelled out the name **'Harry Potter'**, and she choked back the urge to cry. He had meant so much to her, and had been a big part of her life ever since the first time she had met him. He'd had such a huge impact on her, and there was nothing slow about the way she fell in love with him. Tears escaped now, but she didn't bother wiping them away. What was the use?

"Oh, Harry," she whispered. "Why did you have to take my heart with you?" Her fingers lingered on the letters of his name as she stared at the shiny, mahogany box that Harry was resting in. She wanted to see him, just one last time. She didn't care what he looked like, just as long as she got to see his flawless face one more time.

Ginny glanced over her shoulder to make sure that no one was watching her, and she took the corner of he lid closest to her and lifted it only slightly. She peered inside and gasped, the corner slipping from her fingers. The lid fell with a _'thump'_ and she took a step back from the casket. A couple of people were staring at her as she stared blankly at the coffin, and Ron and Hermione, who had been standing close by, were at her side in a flash.

"Ginny, are you all right?" Hermione asked her voice full of concern. Ron's brow was furrowed as he stared at his sister. Ginny shook her head 'no' to answer Hermione's question, and she pointed to the third casket.

"That…that's not Harry in there," she said, her voice shaking. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

"'Course it was. Who else would it be?" Ron said, looking at his sister as if she were mental.

"I don't know, Ron, but it's not Harry. Last time I checked, Harry had _black_ hair, not _blonde. _Take a look for yourself if you don't believe me." Ron stared at her for a moment, the thought that his sister just might be crazy crossing his mind. Finally, he glanced around the room, then wandered over to the casket with Harry's name on it and lifted the corner, just as Ginny had; only Ron lifted it slightly higher to get a better look inside. Hermione and Ginny watched as Ron shook his head, closing the lid back as he did so. He walked swiftly back over to the two and paced in front of them, hands resting loosely on his hips.

"Unbelievable," he muttered to himself, watching the ground as he paced.

"What?" Hermione asked impatiently. Ron merely shook his head.

"It's not him. It's not Harry." Hermione let out a breath she hadn't known she'd bee holding, and blinked back the sudden urge to burst into tears.

"Oh, thank heavens," she said faintly.

"See!" Ginny hissed. "I _told_ you!" Ron only shot her a look.

"What's odd," Ron said, stopping in front of them, "is that Malfoy is in there in place of Harry." Hermione gasped and put her hand over her mouth.

"No," she whispered.

"Oh, yes," said Ron. "Don't get me wring. I don't mind that he's taken Harry's place, but what I want to know is…if Malfoy is in there," he pointed to the third coffin, "then where's Harry? No one, and I mean _no one_, could make a mistake that huge." Ginny, who had been thinking that exact same thing, stared blankly at the wall.

"Oh my god," she whispered to herself, after a moment of silence between the three. "Don't you guys see?" Ron looked over at her, confused.

"Er…see what, Gin?" Ginny looked at him incredulously.

"All this – Malfoy being in the casket instead of Harry – means that he's alive." She paused to let her words sink in. "Harry's alive…"


	2. Attention Readers

**Attention Readers**

If you're reading this now, I take it you've read the first chapter! I would just like to let you know that I am half-way finished with Chapter Two, and it should be up in a couple of days, if not tonight.

Also, please review, and give me feedback. I want know the things that I did well, and things that I could really work on, so I can correct them in my later chapters. So…reviews are very much appreciated! And please, constructively criticize me! It'll help me become a better writer and it'll help you enjoy the story better!

Thanks,

Courtney


	3. A Little Bit of Faith, Or Perhaps Not

Note: I'm really sorry about some of the spelling errors you might find. I wrote this in kind of a hurry, plus I'm worn out!

Thanks for reading!

**Chapter Two:**

**A Little Bit of Faith…Or Perhaps Not**

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. Her logical side had finally showed its face and stubbornly contradicted the testimony of both Ron and Ginny. "It's just not possible." The three of them had stepped outside to get a little more privacy and to get away from prying ears and eyes. People had started to give them skeptical looks so they decided that it would be best to take their conversation elsewhere.

"What do you mean, its not possible?" said Ron hotly. "I looked into that casket, Hermione, and I'm telling you that it wasn't Harry lying in there."

"But, Ron, you yourself said that no one could make a mistake of that magnitude. This is completely arbitrary."

"Leave it to you to use big words in a situation like this," Ron muttered.

"Which word did you consider big, Ronald? 'Completely'? Or perhaps it was 'mistake'." She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a scathing look.

"No, as a matter of fact, it wasn't…"

It was about this time that Ginny tuned out their bickering and focused on more important matters. Like Harry being alive. Oh Gods, Harry was alive! Just the thought made Ginny's stomach flip over again and again out of excitement.

If Harry was alive, though, how come he wasn't here with them right now, mourning over her dead father and brother? Ginny couldn't stop her mind from straying to all the 'why's and 'how come's.

'_Maybe he hadn't known about the funeral,'_ a voice in Ginny's head stated.

Oh, but that was rubbish! Of course he knew. He wasn't dead so…

'_But you saw them haul his body away. You were there. Come now, Ginny. Be the sensible girl I know you are."_

Sensible? Who said anything about sensible? She was desperate for a reason to believe that was truly alive and out there, still. True, she had seen them haul his body away, but that didn't explain why Draco Malfoy was there instead of Harry. Unless…

Ginny's heart sank. Unless they really had accidentally switched the bodies, and Harry was somewhere else, being lowered into the ground.

"…go on then, Hermione. Ask Ginny. She saw him too!" Ron's voice brought Ginny back to reality, and she looked over at him.

"Ron," Ginny started, her voice oddly high pitched. She cleared her throat and began again. "Ron, I think that maybe Hermione is right."

Ron looked at her, for the umpteenth time that day, like she was mental. "What? No! Ginny, you saw him. That wasn't Harry and you know it!"

"Don't you raise your tone with me, Ron Weasley, and don't tell me what I did and did not see," Said Ginny, fiercely. "I know it wasn't Harry. I'm not daft. But I think that perhaps there was a mix-up. That Harry and Draco were both put into the wrong casket. It's far-fetched, but not completely impossible to do."

"Now _that_ makes sense," Ron said sarcastically. "Ginny, what happened to you believing that he was alive, huh? You know good and well that no one, no one in their right mind, could ever mistake Harry Potter for Draco Malfoy. You want to know why? Because Harry's got that ruddy scar on his forehead and Malfoy doesn't. Everyone n the wizarding world knows who Harry Potter is. They couldn't possibly mistake him."

"Honestly, Ron," said Hermione, placing her hands on her hips. "We're Harry's best friends. If he were alive, don't you think he'd tell us? Or at least contact us to let us know that he's unscathed?" Ron stayed silent, because he knew that she'd had him there. They were Harry's best friends, or they were supposed to be. They should have known by now if he was alive. But it still didn't make any sense why Draco, or someone who seemed to look a great deal like Draco, was in there and not Harry.

"What about mum? What do you reckon she'd say?" Ron spoke quietly, staring at the ground.

"Well, there's nothing to say. And plus, your mum has been through quite enough without you marching in there, telling her that Harry really isn't dead. It seems almost ludicrous. And in all honesty, Ron, I don't think she'd choose to believe you." She gave him a sympathetic look.

"But I have proof! I saw it with my own eyes! I could show mum…"

"No, you won't," Hermione said sternly. "I will not let you lift that casket lid in front of your mother. She can't handle it right now, Ron. She lost the equivalent of two sons and the love of her life. Would you want people going around, showing you what you already know? That someone's dead?" The tips of Ron's ears turned pink and he kicked lightly at the ground.

"I guess not," he said faintly. Hermione watched Ron, and her eyes softened. She took a sep towards him and took hold of his hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze. Ron looked up to meet her gaze.

Ginny watched this exchange and sighed inwardly.

"Good Gods, just make it official already," Ginny snapped irritable, her mood quickly becoming invidious. She turned away from the two, who were watching her retreat, matching masks of astonishment jacketing their faces, and she headed back inside, pushing past Fred – or perhaps George? – who had gone looking for the three of them. Fred – or George – watches as his sister passed, and then sent Ron and Hermione a questioning look to which they both shrugged to. He shook his head and said, "Mum's looking for you two, especially you, Ron. People are about to start heading out, so you need to come say g'bye." After his quick words, he popped his head back inside, leaving Ron and Hermione alone.

"Shall we head inside then?" Ron said after a moment of silence. Hermione nodded and they both walked back inside, still clutching each others hands.

When everyone but the Weasley's had left the layout and all was quiet, is when everything started to sink in for Ron. He stood in the middle of the room, hands in the pockets of his trousers, staring at the three caskets before him. Gone were his father and Charlie, two of the greatest people he knew. He was proud to say that he was kin to them both. Sure, his father was a bit eccentric, but he was a loving father and a loyal husband to his dying day. And, yeah, Charlie could go on for hours and hours talking about bloody dragons all day (no wonder he never settled down), and he would eventually manage to bore the pants off of you, but he was also cool and hip, and very smart and talented. It was a shame that two people, so pure and kind-hearted, had died when evil clearly still lived and roamed the wizarding world.

Ron didn't know when he would come to terms with the fact that he no longer had a mentor. He hoped soon, because he didn't know how much longer he could deal with this dull, aching, empty feeling coursing though him. Now that the reality of it all had sunk in, the aching had become progressively worse, and he wanted to go completely numb, if only for a little while.

Then there was Harry. But…there wasn't. His mind was still going over all of the possibilities. He knew that it wasn't Harry in Casket Number Three. He was pretty sure it was Draco Malfoy. In fact, he'd be willing to bet his life on it.

If that was the case, though, and it really _was_ Draco, then where the bloody hell was Harry? If he wasn't alive, then why wasn't he in the coffin with his name engraved on the front? And if he was alive…well, why didn't he let on? Ron had too many things to think about all at once, and it was giving him a fierce headache. He lifted a hand and rubbed his temples with his thumb and index finger, now gazing down at the floor.

Ginny seemed to be able to read his emotion - she always had been empathetic that way – because she sidled up to him and pulled out her wand, then placed the tip of it up to his temple. She muttered a spell and Ron felt instant relief. He looked over at Ginny after heaving a deep sigh, and said, "Thanks, Gin."

"Don't mention it," She said softly. She rubbed his back in a comforting way, and then headed back to their mother who was waiting at the door. Ron looked back to the caskets and pursed his lips.

"What the hell am I s'posed to do without you? All of you?" he questioned quietly to no one in particular.

"Ron, dear," he heard, moments later. His mother was still waiting at the door, along with Fred, George, Bill, Ginny and Hermione. "Dear," she repeated, her voice sounding nasally, and weary. "It's time to go." Ron looked back at her, nodded, glanced back at the caskets once more, and then turned to leave with the rest of his family.

The Weasley family plus Hermione started their morning in the most unusual way: in an orderly fashion. Everyone was too tired, too sullen, to move at a fast pace, and the speed at which they got dressed was their slowest yet. Mrs. Weasley didn't have the heart to rush them, for she, too, felt fatigued.

When they arrived at the burial, the Weasley's stood in the very front. When Hermione tried to take a place near the back, claiming that it wasn't fair of her to be in front with the rest of them, Ron gave her an incredulous look and shook his head, taking hold of her hand and keeping her in her place beside him. She bit her lip and was about to open her mouth to protest, but Ron just sent her a sideways glance that shut her up instantly. She knew when to keep quiet.

While Mrs. Weasley was giving the encomium, Ron leaned sideways, whispering in Hermione's ear.

"You know your part of the family just as everyone else. And, well…you're my support." He gave her hand a squeeze, the way she had done to him a day earlier at the layout. The tips of his ears turned red when she looked up at him and gave him a small smile, then leaned in and pecked him on the cheek.

"…my husband, Arthur Weasley, will not be forgotten. Not in _my_ heart, anyway. He was a good man, a kind man. There was never a dull moment with him." Mrs. Weasley gave a watery smile as she recalled many fond memories unknown to the audience. "And I only hope that, where ever he may be, I will always live on in his heart as well, and that he will not forget me, or the beautiful family that we created together." Mrs. Weasley's throat constricted around her words, making them hard to speak, and at her last word she choked and broke down into tears. Her eldest son, Bill, stood and led his mother from the front of the crowd back to her seat. It was then that a sad tune began to play as the three caskets were lowered into the ground. For Ron, this was the hardest part. It was too final. There was no closure, no chance to say goodbye ever again. He blinked rapidly to keep his tears at bay, but once one escaped, he couldn't help himself. They started flowing and he gripped Hermione's hand just a little bit tighter, thankful that she was there with him.

Even when they were no longer able to see the sleek, shiny caskets, they stayed. Ron preferred it that way. It gave them all one last chance to be together, alone, with those they had loved.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

**Four Years Later –**

"Harry!" Ginny yelled excitedly. A man, who was tall and had a slight build, turned to search for the voice, his emerald eyes darting around. "Harry!" she called again, this time waving frantically in his direction. His eyes finally landed on her and he stood there rooted to the spot, a small smile playing across his lips. When Ginny made eye contact, she smiled brightly and took off at a run towards him, dodging the people walking in a mainstream down Diagon Alley. Harry was ready for her as she leapt into his arms and when he caught her he spun her around. She laughed, burying her face into his neck, deeply inhaling the smell of him. 'Ah, good,' she thought_. 'He still smells the same, with a little something extra that I can't quite identify.'_ She smiled. _'I like it.'_

After a moment – or perhaps five – Harry set her back down on the ground, his hands still remaining on her waist. He looked down at her and studied her. His eyes moved over her body, her face, taking in all her features as though it were the last time he'd ever get to lay eyes on her.

"Look at you," he whispered, his eyes looking into hers once again. "You look astounding. Of course, you've always looked astounding, but I haven't seen you in quite some time and parts of you have changed." At this, Ginny's eyebrows rose and a smile crept across her lips.

"Which parts, Harry?" she asked, a playful tone in her voice. He smiled, a twinkle in his eye, and looked over his shoulder as his name was called again.

"Harry! Is that really you?" Hermione Granger's face lit up like the city lights at night when she realized that it was, indeed, Harry. Ginny smiled as the two of them hugged, and she let her mind wander when they began to reminisce. Harry was alive and well, and standing right in front of her, and she could hardly contain her excitement. She was jittery and anxious, and wanted nothing more than to get him alone; they had reminiscing of their own to do. She reached down and gently grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers with his, and she saw him glance at her from the corner of his eye as he continued to chat with Hermione.

She heard Hermione ask, "Where have toy been all this time, Harry?" and Ginny looked up at him as well.

"Yes, Harry," she joined in. "Where _have_ you been?" Harry looked from one girl to the other and cleared his throat.

"I knew that question was bound to come up sooner or later, and I regret to say that I simply cannot tell you. Either one of you."

"And why is that?" Hermione threw out, asking the same question that was on the tip of Ginny's tongue. They both stared at him expectantly.

"I can't tell you because there may come a time when I need to go back o that place, and I feel it would be best if I were the only one who knew that location." Hermione opened her mouth, no doubt to ask another question, but Harry cut her off before she could even get started. "No more questions, ladies, please. I'll all work itself out, I promise. Just trust me, okay?" He looked to each of them, waiting for their nod, and when he got it he gave a nod of his own. "Good." There was silence between them for a moment and then Hermione spoke again. "Harry, it's not that we don't trust you," she said quietly. "We just worry about you." Her last statement lingered in the air between the three of them for a moment before Harry said, "I know you do. And I'm thankful for all of you." Hermione smiled and touched his arm briefly, then sighed.

"I really hate to, but I've got to dash. I was supposed to be home a while ago. Ron's probably wondering where I am. I'll see you soon, though, Harry, okay?" But before she could let him confirm, she hugged him and Ginny both and Disapparated on the spot. Harry smiled and shook his head, turning back to her.

"She's a very persistent little thing, isn't she?"

"That she is," Ginny agreed, smiling. "She may even get you to reveal your little hiding place one day."

"She can try, but it's best that no one knows where I was."

"Why?" Ginny asked.

"For the safety of others. I'm risking a lot being out right now, but it was necessary." Ginny searched his face for some indication, some sign, but found nothing and nodded, looking down at the cobblestone street. Harry lifted her chin with his index finger and smiled warmly at her. "Don't worry about me, Gin."

"I can't help but to worry about you," she said faintly.

"I know, but I'll be okay. I swear it." Ginny sniffled and bit down on her lower lip, and Harry drew her closer to him. "Hey, cheer up, all right? I'm here now and I don't plan on going anywhere for a while." Ginny was quiet for a moment, staring into the emerald gems that were his eyes. She supposed she would have to trust him. He'd never let her down before.

"Harry?" She looked him square in the eye and didn't continue until she had his full, undivided attention. "Kiss me." Harry raised his eyebrows at the demand and smiled. He'd hoped they would get around to that.

"Yes, ma'am." He lowered his head slowly and stopped when his lips were a breath away from hers. He teased her, brushing his lips oh-so-lightly across hers, and when she let out a breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding, he kissed her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ginny's eyes popped open and she looked around her dark room frantically, hoping to see Harry standing near by.

He wasn't.

She let out a deep sigh and squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to start her dream where it had left off, but the memories of the dream were quickly fading, and she could only remember the kiss, which was probably the most important part of the whole dream. Tears had started to form in her eyes when she opened them again, and she sat up in her bed and pressed her fingers to her lips.

Merlin only knew how much she missed his kisses. Before she'd ever been kissed by Harry Potter, she'd had quite a bit of experience under her belt, so she thought she knew what good was. Dean was been good. She'd only kissed Neville once and he was…scared, mostly, poor bloke, but not half bad. There were a few others as well, but that day, after the Quidditch match, when Harry kissed her for the first time, her whole body came to life, tingling with excitement and desire. Kissing Harry never got old; each and every kiss was just as thrilling as the last. Kissing guys now was just stupid after experiencing something like that. She'd tried to find that feeling again, but couldn't. She hated and loved Harry for being the only one to make her feel that way.

Knowing that sleep would be impossible now, Ginny slid out of bed and felt her way out into the hallway of her small flat, then trudged to the kitchen to make herself some warm milk. Her thoughts, which were spinning around in her head, and hopefully the warm milk would tire her enough to lull her back to sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Miles away, at Hermione Grangers flat, Hermione awoke with a start, startling Ron who was fast asleep next to her. He had moved in with her two weeks prior, but still hadn't become accustomed to Hermione's recent bout of nightmares. Ron searched blindly for the light, and when he found it he switched it on, blinking rapidly so that he could adjust his eyes quicker. When he could see, he sat up and rubbed his eyes groggily.

"'Mione? You all right?" When she said nothing, he reached over to rub her back.

"It's a sign, Ron." She said suddenly, looking up at him. "It has to be."

"Erm…what's a sign?"

"My dreams!" she said, somewhat impatiently. She slid out of bed and pulled on a robe over her pajamas. She slipped her hands into the pockets of the robe and paced in front of the bed. "It was about Harry, again. He was with Ginny in Diagon Alley and he was telling us about how he couldn't mention where he'd been all these years, because it was safer that way, and he said that we shouldn't worry, that things would eventually work themselves out. I'm telling you, Harry's alive, and out there somewhere."

"Hermione," Ron started, but she went on as if he'd never said a word.

"Just the thought of Harry being alive is…unreal, and fantastic."

"Hermione," Ron said again, this time a little louder, but he was cut off.

"I know what you're going to say, Ron. You're going to say that if Harry were alive why wouldn't he have turned up by now." Hermione turned to face him. "He hasn't turned up because he's trying to protect us. I think my dreams are supposed to mean something, though, and every time I hope one I get this feeling of hope. Please, Ron, don't destroy that feeling. I'd like to hold onto it for as long as I possibly can."

"I understand, Hermione. I'd like to believe that he's out there, somewhere, too. I just don't want to see you sad should you ever lose that hope. I don't want it to be a false sense, ya know?" Hermione went back around to her side of the bed and sat down beside him.

"I know you don't, but at this point I don't think it's false at all. I think it's very real, and I honestly do think that my dreams are trying to tell me something. You must think I'm going crazy, a sensible woman like me all of a sudden analyzing her dreams the same way Trelawney analyzes that silly crystal ball of hers." Ron smiled at the last bit, shook his head, and said, "I don't think you're going crazy. But I do think that you should get some more sleep, so you actually have dreams to analyze." She gave him a weak smile and a nod, pulled off her robe, then slid back under the covers.

"Thanks, Ron," she whispered as he reached over to turn out the light again. He looked over at her and furrowed his brow.

"What're you thanking me for?" Hermione smiled at him in the dark and reached over to run her hand over his cheek.

"For not destroying my hope."

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**NOTE**: I know that took really long to get up, and I apologize! It's not as long as I would have liked it to be, but I'm leaving things for later chapters, so…I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for being patient!


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